Smirk
by TheTruthBetween
Summary: Leo goes into Annabeth's email account to leak news, and finds something wholly unexpected.


Leo tapped his fingers on the table, squinting thoughtfully at the screen of his laptop. Password, password, what would Annabeth's password be? He'd already tried her mother's maiden name, her hometown, and her birth date, as well as various combinations of the above. If she had a child, that would've been his first guess, but as she didn't... Wait. She had a... his brow furrowed thoughtfully. A cat. Now what was the thing's name...?

_"Oh," Annabeth had half-whined sadly, reading something on her blackberry._

_Lou, Josh and Leo all looked over at her. "Is there a... problem?" Josh asked, hands on his hips and shifting from foot to foot._

_Annabeth shook her head a little sheepishly, blonde curls slipping over her shoulder. "No, sorry. Just... my cat."_

_"Cat?" Josh's tone was blank in confused disbelief. A cat?_

_"You have a cat?" Lou asked curiously._

_"Yeah. I had to leave her at a kennel. I just got an email from one of the workers saying that she misses me."_

_"The worker?" Josh asked, confusion mounting._

_Annabeth gave him a look. "My cat."_

_"Oh. Right."_

_"Is she all right?" Leo inquired, concerned, but somewhat distantly polite._

_Looking back at her blackberry screen, Annabeth read, "Saysha keeps trying to escape out the door, and spends hours looking out the window meowing."_

_"You named your cat **Saysha**?"_

_Annabeth tucked her blackberry away and fought the urge to make a face at Lou for her tone. "No, she was named Saysha when I got her. SCPA."_

_"Ahh."_

_"Um, can we get back to...?" Josh motioned to the whiteboard and Annabeth nodded with a smile._

Saysha.

Leo typed the name into the password field and hit enter, and a moment later, he was in Annabeth's inbox. It didn't take long to fire off a few emails, and he was about to hit the log out button when he noticed Annabeth's drafts folder. "A hundred and eighty-seven drafts?" he murmured to himself.

Curiosity warred with the guilty feeling that he was doing something wrong. It was one thing to break into her email to **send** emails, it was another thing entirely to read her personal communications.

"No," he finally decided, shaking his head. Still, he couldn't quite bring himself to log out, his finger refusing to press down on the button beneath it. His gaze moved back to the drafts folder, and that curiously high number. "Just a peek," he finally rumbled, justifying to himself that he wasn't going to read anything, just... take a look.

Clicking on the folder only deepened his confusion, as he stared at a neat row of emails with no listed recipient and only a date in the subject lines. Further consideration prompted a second self-made promise of "just a peek" and another click, on the subject line with the most recent date.

_Sometimes I think that man is going to be the death of me._

Maybe he should bring this to the attention of the Secret Service? He read on.

_He doesn't realize it, of course. Oh no, Leo McGarry would never realize the effect he has on me. Blind son of a bitch. Probably better this way, but still, sometimes I wonder._

Leo's brow furrowed. Obviously not something to bring to the attention of the Secret Service, but what on earth was Annabeth talking about? And more importantly, who was she talking it **to**?

_Not that wondering does me any good, of course. Because then I think about what ifs, and those are dangerous. What if he felt the same way I do? What if this... tension_

That word again. Leo's mind drifted back to an elevator months ago. "The tension," she'd said. He had brilliantly replied, "What tension?"

_was something he felt, too? This attraction. What if, what if, what if? Shut it, Schott. He doesn't feel it, he won't feel it, and you need to get over this damned crush. Ugh. If only it **was** a crush! How much easier would things be if I could pass it off as the same feelings that have everyone else engaging in campaign flings. Can't be, though, since it started long before the campaign. Stupid, stupid me. He probably views me as a child. Hell, I'm barely older than his child! Stupid little girl, Annabeth... not even Leo is worth crying over._

Leo sat back, reaching the end of the short email. A journal, he realized. Annabeth kept a journal in her drafts folder.

_not even Leo is worth crying over._

His eyes scanned the line again, and he sat up straight again. Crying. Annabeth was _crying_. Over **him**.

"Don't cry, Annabeth," he murmured to the empty room. "You're not stupid."

And she wasn't. Despite his open-mouth-insert-foot question in the elevator, he **did** feel the tension, did feel the attraction. It would be hard to **not** be attracted to Annabeth.

Curiosity had him clicking on the next journal entry.

_Oh my God. Oh my God. This morning... I have no words. I'm not sure I've **ever** had a dream that vivid. Leo's hands... sure, strong hands... running over my skin._

... _Oh_. Leo shifted a little in his chair, glancing around the room, as if he expected Annabeth to pop out from behind the couch and accuse him of... what? Invading her privacy? That was a given, he was in her email account, reading her journal. He shoved the guilt away and turned back to the screen.

_Feeling his breath against my neck, hearing him groan and pant into my ear... dream or not, it was as real as it's ever going to get, I might as well enjoy it, right? Just the thought... His hands, slowly undressing me, touching me... bringing me to the edge of insanity just with his fingers. And he's so damn cocky, I just know he'd be a horrible tease. Just the thought makes me shiver._

Shiver, yes. That was a good word. Clearing his throat, Leo rubbed the back of his neck, and continued reading.

_Then his mouth... kissing me, swallowing every sound I make before drifting down. I'd be desperate before he even got anywhere interesting! And of course he would look up every now and then and give me that smirk. That smirk that just makes me want to... fuck._

Leo startled at the word, having never heard anything stronger than a muttered "oh hell" escape Annabeth's lips. To hear her say **that** word... Maybe he should smirk more often.

_I hope he'd want to taste. I would give anything to be able to look down and see him between my thighs, anything to move against his mouth._

Shifting, Leo cleared his throat again, and glanced down at his lap, a familiar (although long-unused) tightening making blood rush south.

_And then just as I'm on the brink, he'd be more of a bastard and lift his head. I'd want to scream at him. Maybe I **would** scream at him. But he would just smirk again, lips wet with my need, and move back up. "Want something?" he'd ask casually._

He was anything but casual right now. Sweat prickled his brow, and he half-stood for a moment, to smooth out his pants.

_But I would get my revenge. Wrap my legs around his hips and pull him against me. Rocking my body under his. "Do you?" I'd growl, and I'd be smug when that damn smirk slipped away, when he'd groan my name. After that, neither of us would say much of anything. He'd need to be inside me, and I would need him there just as much. His name would become my mantra, keeping time with our rhythm, until everything froze._

"Dear God in heaven," Leo breathed. There was so much temptation to call Annabeth, ask her to come for a briefing... or something... To kiss her, touch her, make everything freeze with her.

_And the world would fade away, and it would just be us, together, entwined. One._

Be one with her.

_Slowly things would start to filter back. Sounds, smells, sensations... he would pull away and roll to lay beside me, and I would curl against him. And there would be no blackberries, no cell phones, no campaign... just us. And he would love me._

Breathing deeply, Leo reread the last paragraph, then copied the entire journal entry into a blank document, saving and password protecting it before he logged out of Annabeth's email.

Drumming his fingers on the table, he considered what he'd read. It wasn't time to have a "chat" with the beautiful Ms. Schott, he knew that. The campaign was too hectic, too full of flings between staff. But maybe he could try and let her know, in his own way.

Maybe he would just smirk.

- Loading -


End file.
